Assassin's Creed: Death Rattle Part II
by Foxeyes13
Summary: Dakota returns to the depths of history to shadow an upcoming Assassin.
1. One- Dakota

_**One- Dakota**_

I opened my eyes to bright light all around me. I felt the hard surface I was laying on underneath of me. I gasped in a deep breath and made to sit up quickly, only to smack my face off of the glass coffin that surrounded me. My face had left a bloodied mark on the glass, and I realized it was from the corner of my eye. I looked around me, seeing the faces of attending nurses waiting for the glass to lift away from my body. I turned my head to see out into the lab where Doctor Means had a smile approval, and Colt had crossed arms and a smirk. Beside them stood a trembling Roger, but he too had a smile. The glass lifted from me, and the nurses went to work pulling out IV's and taking off my heart monitoring patches.

I brought myself to a sitting position, legs dangling off the edge of the table. Every part of my body ached. Half of my body ached from all of the physical exhaustion of my past missions while the other half ached from not being moved at all for weeks at a time. I stretched my arms upwards, twisted my back left and right, straightened my legs out and rolled my ankles around. Things popped and cracked as I stretched.

I felt unfamiliar to my body once again; only such an odd out-of-body-but-in-body experience as time travel can do to a person. No one would know about this sensation, or the extreme sickness it can cause as your body begins to reject itself. Luckily, my body was beginning to condition to the process of positive and negative atom separation. I slowly got myself to my feet and started walking to my apparent entourage.

The first person I went too was Roger, throwing my arms around him.

"Welcome back," Roger said.

"Thank you," I whispered, "I think we need to talk."

"We will," Roger nodded.

Doctor Means clasped his hand on my back when Roger and I pulled from our hug. Colt made no advances towards me, just turning in his spot and examined me.

"Looks like you got yourself in a scrap," Colt snorted.

I reached up to my face, feeling the dried blood and an already created scar. "Just a bit," I muttered.

"Let's give the girl some space," Doctor Means said, "I think she deserves some recovery time."

Two weeks later, I found myself seated with the rest of the overseeing Mentors. We had been discussing my missions in great detail, but I did not mention the Apple. Something told me to keep that matter quiet. The hallucination the Apple gave me felt too real, too much of an actual warning. After some serious thought about the messenger, I had speculated it was Altair Ibn-La'Ahad. But it was information I would not even tell Roger.

"I'd like to interject all this positive reinforcement nonsense," chirped Mentor Christina.

Doctor Means sighed, obviously annoyed, "Go on."

"You know she has made an Assassin Legend now? The Ghost of the Assassin's?" She spat with annoyance, "Grand Master Ezio Auditore even writes about this Assassin Ghost, la bell Assassin, and so do the Templar's. They say that The _Ghost_ shows up when times are hard for the Brotherhood, and somehow shows them a path to rebuilding. Then, she disappears without a trace."

"What's the problem with having some type of folktale in the Assassin's?" I spoke up, "Especially when the Templar's are talking about it?"

"The problem is there is suspicion!" Screamed Mentor Christina.

I rolled my eyes, "By the way, you pronounced it wrong. It's _la belle Assassino_."

"You see, Doctor Means! She is defiant and unfitting for any further missions."

Doctor Means glared at Mentor Christina, "She is strong and she is going further in my missions. If you scream at this young lady again I will completely dismiss you from this project."

"Doctor-!"

"No, I have had it, Christina. Leave this room, and you are not to be a part of this project any longer."

And with the doctor's dismissal, Mentor Christina threw her notes all over the desk and stormed out of the room. The conversations continued without any rude interruptions or arguments.

"So, Dakota, your next mission will only be taking you back a few hundred years. This is the best time for you to experience both being a mentor _and_ a student."

"What era are you thinking about?" I asked calmly.

"The American Revolution seems like it would be a good fit for you," Doctor Means smiled.

I thought about it for a second, "Okay. When do we start?"

"In a few weeks, just get yourself some well deserved rest, Dakota."

Later that night, Roger and I snuck out of the base into town. We found a tattoo shop, in which I was determined to make my mark. With Roger letting me squeeze his hand, the tattoo artist worked at outlining my latest addition. After the meeting, I went to my room and carefully sketched out my mark, in which the tattoo artist prettied up with an actual ability to draw. It looked like a metal Assassin's insignia ripping out from the inside of my body, placed on my lower abdomen near my hip.

I was determined to become a better Assassin. I wanted, deep down inside, revenge for my family. I wanted nothing more but the collapse of the Templar's. I was the daughter of Grand Master Assassin Antonio Verdi, and a member of a family with generations of Assassin's who died in the war against the Templar's.


	2. Two- Dakota

_**Two- Dakota**_

For weeks I trained in the basics of archery and practiced my climbing abilities on an advanced rock wall. First I started scaling the wall with the provided safety harness, and once I reached the top I would ring the bell, and then begin my descent. Halfway into my first week, Colt took the liberty of removing the safety belt, and decided to make scaling harder by removing some of the rock holds. I started to scale the wall, and found myself stuck halfway up, paralyzed of falling, remembering the sensation of being thrown off the roof in Italy. It was a miracle that I was called back a second before I splattered onto the ground.

" _Colt_ when I get down, I am going to _murder_ you!" I yelled as I continued to look for a way out of this jam.

"You'll thank me later, Dakota." He coolly called up to me.

"Oh yeah? What about a great big ' _fuck you'_?" I yelled, and my left foot slipped off of the rock it inhabited making me yelp and flare for another foot placing.

Colt laughed at me and finally got out, "Learn this Dakota and you'll have no issues keeping up on a _real_ mountain."

I growled slightly in frustration before yelling, " _fottiti_!" _Go fuck yourself!_

" _Whatever_ that means," Colt said, then turned on the audio system for the gymnasium which in turn began to blast some overpowered techno song.

Colt began taking me cross-country running to ensure my body was ready for fast paced changes that I could encounter while on my mission. He had me scale a few rocky hillsides, and even made me climb trees and jump from limb from limb. Also while out on our runs, he tested my skills of parkour with different objects ranging from rocks to park benches. Back at the base, Colt wanted to see my skills in knife throwing, and different assassination tactics. These were all things I learned and perfected during my time in Italy, and quite frankly I was _very_ good. Colt even dared to challenge me in the usage of my Sai blades, but he quit only after three rounds for he could not counter my fast movements.

At the end of my second week training session, Colt granted me a new pair of black, full fingered gloves with small silver spikes along the knuckles. I was to wear these gloves in the winter, and my other set of gloves in the warmer season's considering they were a fingerless version of my new gloves. For the next week, Colt had me "roughen up" my fighting techniques. He claimed that my hand to hand combat was "too cute" although effective, but my style was just "too classy." Refining my fighting in this week made it look rough around the edges, and very brutal. At the end of the third week, Colt handed me a sleek black box. Inside was a new pair of thick black riding boots with good soles and the throat came up to the middle of my calves. Upon further inspection, there were hidden pockets for two knives on the outside of each boot. Colt pleaded for me to try them on, and I did so, only to find that my surprises were not finished quite yet. With a very quick flick of the foot, a small, sharp blade extended out from between the rubber of the soles and the leather of the boot. I liked my new boots very much, but with new weaponry came more training. On my last and final day of training, I was presented with yet another box. This box contained my new robes.

These robes were of beautifully crafted with a particularly intricate design. The inside of the hood was lined with soft, red fabric. The edges of the hood, along with the rest of the robes edges, were lined in silver and gold threaded designs that interlocked together. The tails of the robes did not reach as far as my last, which was an okay choice for me considering my shorter stature, and were pointed together like a "V" formation. On the underneath of the tails were pleats matching the red that lined my hood. The front of the robes came together in a very feminine way, exposing my chest slightly, and had a nice built-in, double layered corset that was flexible enough to move in and did not require stringing every day. On the front of the corset were pockets in which I could slip in my throwing knives, Sai blades, and daggers without slicing myself open, all without sacrificing the beauty of these robes. I carefully placed my eighteen throwing knives (three in a row across my torso, four rows down) and two Sai blades into the vest's pockets. I slid on my hidden blades over my wrists, new gloves on my hands, and put my new boots (equipped with four more hidden knives) over my tightly fitting black pants. For the finishing touch, I placed the Assassin Insignia belt on around my waist. I looked like a killing machine. I adored these robes; they made me look dangerous.

Of course, during all of my training, I still had to know my history. My mission was to take place in the late 1700s during the American Revolution. I was to at first meet a young Native American who would fall under the pseudo name _Connor_ a few months after I meet him. I am not to speak of this name until it is given to him by his mentor, Achilles. Already, Doctor Means had been sent back into the 1700s to inform Achilles of my arrival, but he has no further date then the year. When I first meet the boy, he will only be about 15, but I will leave him a little after his sixteenth birthday. I will return to them a few "years" later, and train with Connor, who would be seventeen. I had to learn Connor's background story- quite a tragic story at best, and the "who's who" and the "what's what" during the American Revolution. Connor was born to a Native American woman named Kaniehti:io, and a British man by the name of Haytham Kenway; however Connor grew up without his father, only to find out years later that his father was a Templar. Haytham was responsible for establishing the Templar Order in the Colonies around the time of the Seven Years War, in which he met Connor's mother in some fiasco I am unawares. Around the age of five, Connor lost his mother tragically in a fire that ravished his village.

As I read the packet of history information given to me by Colt, I found myself teary eyed reading the details of Connor's tragic young life. I knew the pain of losing a parent; I knew what I was like to lose both parents by the hands of Templar's. But, Connor…he was so young. His mother was all he had, and she was taken from him. Even Ezio's tragedy, his father and his two brothers being falsely accused and hung, he was at the age of seventeen. He had a very good family life that he could bring back warming memories when he wanted too, and he still had his mother, sister. My heart ached for Connor already, and I had only read a few black words on white paper.

"Let's go over the rules again, shall we?" Colt nagged at dinner; I rolled my eyes at him. "First, don't give out too much information to _anyone_ ; they may become either discouraged or change their actions entirely. Second, you _cannot_ change history's course more than what your presence disrupts already. You are a shadow of Connor to learn from him, he should not learn of the world you live in today. When you first arrive, Connor will still be in his trainings, and his mentor isn't in the best of shape to show him all of the ropes. You have some liberty in teaching Connor, but _only_ if Achilles welcomes your help.

"Also remember that one wrong move can kill you, and our medical team cannot save you," Colt eyed me like a nun would to a Catholic student before smacking their knuckles with a ruler. "Always remember your Creed, Dakota. We do not harm the innocent in the past, present, and nor will we in the future."

I groaned and put my head in my hands, " _Colt,_ I freakin' _know_ already."

I looked up to see him shrug.

He began to walk away from me, but quickly turned back, "almost forgot: don't fall in love."

With a snort I retorted, "I won't. If I could resist Ezio's charms I'm sure I can resist whatever _Connor_ has to throw at me."

Colt rolled his eyes with a smile and turned away, leaving me alone at the dinner table.

I returned to my room that evening, still donned in my new robes I will be wearing for my mission. From different angles, I peered at the Assassin in the mirror. She was a different Dakota than I once knew. The new Dakota longed for approval from her father, from her mother, from her Mentors, and from her friends new and old. She could never think about how her life _was_ , and can never focus on how her life _is_ , the same way again. No, she has witnessed too much to sweat the small things. This new Dakota only knew how to inflict Templar death in the pursuit for freedom- for peace. This new Dakota was no longer a normal human being. Each decent into the historical rabbit hole caused her to train weaknesses of the body, and upon return, that weakness was the new strength in which the rest of her body needed to catch up. She was a freak of nature. She was no longer a simple human. She was a lab rat, an experiment. She was growing up and moving on.

An Assassin with a scar starting from the corner of her right eye to her temple...but she was an Assassin…shouldn't _that_ be enough?

I could not stop my mind from racing.


	3. Three- Colt

_**Three- Colt**_

"What you wanna talk to me about, Doctor Means?" I asked meeting with the doctor in the hallway outside the lab.

They were already prepping Dakota for travel; a simple routine physical, the first of _many_ blood drawings for testing, controlled drip IV hookup, clamping her right pointer finger with a device to measure her breathing, and of course the many patches placed on her skin to assess vitals along with the patches on her head for brain monitoring.

"I just wanted to share a few results with you," Doctor Means said in a half-attempt at his normal cheerful mood.

"Already I can tell I won't like this. Go on," I said leaning against the wall.

He sighed, "Well, good news is that I was right, her mental stability has increased through our screenings."

"And this is a bad thing?" I asked crossing my arms.

The doctor shrugged, "no, I guess not. However Colt, with all good news follows bad news. If what we have calculated is correct, with the continuing breakdown and rebuild of atoms, Dakota is at serious risk of over generation of cells throughout her body."

I looked at him confused, "I don't understand."

Doctor Means shot a cold glance at me, "Colt, listen. If we keep sending her back this way, her homeostasis will be completely disrupted and her cells will divide rapidly. She could wake up with terminal cancer once she's done with this mission!" He hissed.

My heart rate quickened, "what can we do?"

"Quit sending her back, that's what we can do."

I dropped my hands to my side and straightened out, approaching the doctor. "There has to be _something_ you can do in that big medical dictionary of yours."

Doctor Means stepped away from me, "the _only_ thing I can do is stop this mission, Colt. It's bad enough that she's being put through this process again."

"We are not stopping this mission," I hissed at the doctor.

He held his hands up, his voice cold, "okay, fine. But _her_ fate rests in your hands, Colt. If she get's cancer, that's _your_ fault, not mine. Are we in an understanding?"

I nodded my head.

"Good," said the doctor.

He turned and walked into the lab where through the double doors I could see that Dakota was already laying down on the lab table.

I walked inside the lab and moved to the side of Dakota. Once again, she had worn thick black eyeliner and a face full of perfect makeup. This is how she wanted to look at all times during her mission, perfectly beautiful. Although, no matter how much makeup she put on, her scar by her eye always showed through. The scar gave her an edgy look, but it made her looked experienced. Dakota was dressed in her new robes, donned with all of her favorite throwing knives and daggers, and in her hands, lying across her stomach, was a black backpack filled with clothes and supplies to last her through the first few months of her mission.


	4. Four- Dakota

**_Four- Dakota_**

I was staring at the lights above me, taking in the last blinding moments of electricity I will see for the next few months. Colt walked over to me; he was speaking words of encouragement, but he did not have my attention. I was too busy trying to forget all of the modern things we take for granted, things I will once again be without. I thought of Roger, the one who was chosen for these missions originally. I remembered that horrible shriek that radiated from this table, from that man's mouth, when this machine turned on. I thanked God that it wasn't me screaming from the feeling of being ripped apart. Now, I was here, taking one for the team and continuing with the project the Assassin's dumped so much money into so they could one-up the Templar's at Abstergo Industries. It was hard to shake the sight of Roger violently convulsing, and even now today he has trouble keeping still. When I opened my eyes again, I glared at Colt who was still chatting away cheerfully. When he noticed my expression of disgust, his ever-moving mouth closed, and he stepped away from the table.

"Good luck, Dakota," Doctor Means patted me on my shoulder as he moved towards his place at the computer. "You will be arriving on the outskirts of Davenport, January 14th, 1770. Understood?"

I nodded, "Alrightly then. Let's get this show on the road."

The glass coffin lowered down around me, incasing me in tightly sealed bubble. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I listened to the muffled countdown Doctor Means was delivering from thirty.

Twenty-five: I was starting to become nervous, knots in my stomach forming along with butterflies.

Twenty: My breathing became rapid and my heart rate increased. I gripped my backpack close to me.

Fifteen: My eyes were shut tight and my hands balled into fists as I wanted so badly to resist.

Ten: I begin panting as I wanted to cry

Five: _Oh shit_ , the sounds of the machine above me gearing up loudly increased, although the noise was muffled.

Four: _Please! Not again!_

Three: _No! No!_

Two: _Stop!_

One: _Please don't!_

Zero: A flash of light I could see through my eyelids, a moment of pain followed by weightlessness, and that odd tingling feeling I correlated to being "sent back."

Suddenly, it was cold all around me, and I was no longer lying down. The sensation of tingles faded away within my body's core, replaced by the slight nauseated feeling. The cold swirled around me, sending a shiver through my entire being while a prickling sensation of snow flurries entertained my face. The air was crisp and cold within my lungs as I breathed in deeply, but my breath shuddered as it exhaled. I clutched the top handle of my black backpack and forced myself to open my eyes. I blinked several times to get use to the sunlight as the first few beams blinded my sight, causing me to hold my free hand in front of my face for a means of shade. Once I could see properly, I removed my hand and gasped at the beautiful winter landscape I faced; hillsides of all sizes coated in a thick white. The sky was clear blue with only wispy cirrus clouds floating slowly by. The far away sounds of flowing water from a nearby waterway echoed up to my vantage point, bringing the feeling of peace full circle. I smiled as I took in my beautiful surroundings of Colonial America. Switching my attention from the landscape to my task at hand, I began to scan the horizon for a heading. Through the leafless trees I could see a manor upon a large hill looking quite majestic, and so I chose my desired path. I slung my backpack over one shoulder and began down a snow covered path heading in the direction of the overlooking manor.

It was a long walk filled with anxieties and contemplations. As much like my first travels to Italy, I was overwhelmed by nerves, praying that the Assassin's truly did send a messenger before my arrival. By the time I reached the last hillside of my journey, the sun was just starting to set, filling the landscape with beautiful orange and pink hues. Taking a quick break from walking, I stood on the snowy path overlooking the hills I have just traveled over, realizing how lonesome the manor was here, and looked forward again to the brick home. I took one last deep breath to attempt to calm my nerves, and then started walking once more. Standing in front of the landscaped stone steps leading to the front door, I could no longer breathe steadily, and found myself forcing air in and out of my lungs. I was ready to start crying as my social anxieties took hold of my being. With one determined foot coming down upon the first stone step, the other followed suit. _What if he turns me away?_ I thought as I climbed the stairs. _What if Connor is not willing to let me shadow him?_

I reached the front door faster than I wanted to, and knocked. A few moments went by before the door opened.

"Yes?" Asked the man I understood to be Achilles.

"Uh…I am Dakota, I was told that the Assassin's had sent a messenger about my arrival."

The man nodded slowly, almost begrudgingly, and moved to let me enter the manor.

Achilles closed the door behind me, then ushered me into the dining room to the right. Inside was warm from the fireplace, and I was grateful for the heat. The cold from the winter outside began to melt away after a few more chills racked my body. Achilles was an older man, brittle looking and hunched over using a wooden cane for support. His eyes first were dark brown daggers peering at me from underneath his hat, but as he welcomed me into the manor they began to soften just enough to look friendly. White stubble riddled the man's dark face smartly, giving him the appearance of an experienced aristocrat.

"Care to sit, Dakota?" Achilles asked.

"Thank you, but my legs are much too restless. Please, don't mind me."

Achilles crossed the room and pulled a chair from the head of the dining table to sit down. "Would you care to tell me your story? I'm sure if the boy you seek hears voices, he will come to investigate."

I smiled, and launched into my story of traveling through time to meet Ezio, since Achilles already knew that I was not from this time. Achilles listened and once I was finished, asked a few questions from his own curiosity outside of the Assassin's. However, he also asked a few questions that I could tell were designed to figure out how much training and experience I have acquired.

"So you are the one they called _la belle Assassino_? Our Ghost of the Assassin's?" Achilles asked.

Slightly taken aback that my Italian legacy reached this far in history, I blinked at him. "Yes, I suppose that's what they titled me."

"If your legacy holds true, then you have much to help rebuild here."

My eyes dropped from Achilles for a moment before whispering, "Does _he_ know about the Ghost?"

Achilles smirked, "No, not yet."

Soon enough, Achilles looked up to find that we were not alone anymore. I followed his eyes to find the young native boy watching us from the doorway.

"Come in, come in," Achilles offered to him.

Dressed in traditional Mohawk clothing, the teenage boy was slightly taller than me, standing with arms seemingly limp in front of him and his stature lank and an expression of wariness. His black hair came to his jaw, and a small piece was braided on the side of his face. His expression showed no definite emotion, making it difficult for me to decode his possible thoughts. I tried to keep my expression open, slightly glowing with a smile. For all I know, I looked like an idiot.

The boy walked in timidly; keeping his eyes fixed upon me- the strange new woman in Assassin's robes. "Who are you?"

"My name is Dakota." I answered with a slight smile and a natural female flutter of my eyelids.

"Why are you here?" His tone was sharp, but his face did not match his voice. It was more of an expression of curiosity than bitter rudeness.

"Actually, I'm here for _you_. I'm here to learn the skills you know, and I yet need to acquire."

"Why me?" The boy asked, his eyes narrowing with confusion, and possible conviction.

I smiled and nodded my head to the side slightly, "simply because you're the best to teach me."

Achilles spoke, "please, child. Tell Dakota your name, perhaps she will have better luck at pronouncing it than I."

"My name is Ratonhnhake:ton," the boy replied a little taken aback and pronounced his name slowly so I could hear every syllable without sounding it out for me.

I smirked, "So, Ratonhnhake:ton," I pronounced perfectly, "will you help me?"

He looked at me as he contemplated, but finally answered, "Yes, I will help you."

Ratonhnhake:ton watched me for the rest of the night as Achilles and I talked. Upon Achilles request, once our conversations came to a close, the future-named Connor showed me to my room. The room was off the staircase, the first door to the right. It was a very large sitting room, rearranged with a bed for my expected arrival. The decorations in the room were truly unfit to be considered a bedroom, in which caused my earlier observation. Pushed off in the corner of the room was a covered shape of a piano, there were several couches, a large desk, a half covered full length mirror, and a bookshelf full of reading materials. I set my backpack down on the bed, turned and thanked the still timid boy who watched me very closely. I felt bad that I made him uncomfortable, but no matter how warming of a smile I delivered, all I got in return was a curious gaze.

When I was left alone, I flopped down onto the bed and let out a heavy sigh. The worst of the awkward meeting was over, the introductions were made, and now all I had to do was not screw anything up. I needed Ratonhnhake:ton to be able to find trust and reassurance within me that I was, indeed, his ally. Easy enough, except that I was some strange lady staying here in the manor from a different time period. _Yeah, piece of cake._


	5. Five- Dakota

_**Five- Dakota**_

The next morning, I dressed in my robes quickly, ran my hairbrush through my hair, and put on my makeup. I donned my weapons and made my way downstairs. Smells of wood fires and food wafted through the hallways and throughout the dining room.

Achilles smiled at me, "Good morning, Dakota."

"Good morning," I smiled.

A set of footsteps creaked from behind, and Ratonhnhake:ton appeared from around the corner with hair wild from sleep.

"Good of you to join us," Achilles smirked. "We have a few things to do in training today. Dakota, would you help us? I would like to go over countering in combat today in more detail, and since you have an able body that can fight back…" his voice wondered off, so I answered him quickly.

"Yes, of course! I would love to help."

It was cold outside, and the snow in some areas could go above my ankles. Achilles chose to have practice on the level land near the stables, which pleasantly only had a dusting of snow for us to contend. Ratonhnhake:ton was donned with a bow, quiver, and tomahawk. I myself had gathered all of my knives, daggers, hidden blades, long fingered gloves; I felt as if I had an unfair advantage. Achilles chose to have Ratonhnhake:ton attack me first, so I could show proper ways to counter his moves. He chose his tomahawk, and I chose my favorite: the two Sai blades.

Ratonhnhake:ton made the first move, and I spun my knives around, grabbing the main blade itself so I blocked my wrists with the double points. Stepping quickly to my left, I used the handle of my right Sai blade to offset his raised tomahawk just enough so it would loosen his grip. I spun as Ratonhnhake:ton passed by me, which caused me to fall into an offense stance before Ratonhnhake:ton turned around. Achilles prompted Ratonhnhake:ton to remember that the target had a quick chance to kill him for he took too long to turn back around after his failed attempt; only one split second difference could mean life or death. Ratonhnhake:ton turned and looked me up and down, a look that crossed somewhere between confusion and wonder on his face.

"You are…quite fast," He said, still staring.

I smirked and shrugged my shoulders, spinning my Sai over and over in my hand.

Once again, Ratonhnhake:ton "attacked" me, and I countered, adding a slight jab with my left Sai handle close to his ribs, only putting enough pressure for him to know I touched him. He turned quickly, swinging the tomahawk with him, but I had turned my Sai blades back around to grip the handle, crossed them, and met the tomahawk in midair stopping the blow within the hooks of the Sai blades.

Achilles then asked me to act upon a follow through of a counter, to teach Ratonhnhake:ton different methods of finishing a counter. Ratonhnhake:ton once again came forward with his tomahawk, and I dodge him, only this time I jabbed him in the ribs, grabbed him with my left arm in mid-passing and brought my Sai blade just above his throat.

"I believe I just won this fight," I smiled before releasing my blade and my grasp.

Ratonhnhake:ton was not amused, instead, I could see the heat in his face as he became frustrated.

The more he became angry, the faster he fought. For another solid hour, Ratonhnhake:ton and I battled on. He already knew the tactics that the men in his village no doubt taught him, but I was helping refine those skills into an Assassin. Ratonhnhake:ton was a fierce fighter, using much emotion and expression as he battled on, and even his style of countering could be considered ferocious. I admired his fighting, the way he could see through my counters and think ahead to his next steps, and he was only still learning.

Our last fight battled on for several minutes. Back and forth countering, reading each other's moves, making out fight seem like a dance. I held nothing back; I used my abilities in gymnastics to spring away quickly and leave space for us to regroup and attack again. Ratonhnhake:ton disarmed me, or so he thought, until I unsheathed my hidden blades, using my bracers to deflect his blows. Finally, he got an upper hand, sending me to the ground, and he pinning me there.

"I believe I have just won this fight," he said, actually sounding a bit surprised.

I looked up, panting, and smiled.

Achilles dismissed us for the afternoon to eat, and allowed me to have time training with Ratonhnhake:ton in the skills I needed. I ventured back into the cold before Ratonhnhake:ton, taking an opportunity to think about the morning. When Ratonhnhake:ton approached me, I was sitting on a rather large rock with my arms and legs crossed as I tried to keep warm.

His first line of conversation was not what I was expecting, "how did you come to use knives?"

I was stunned to say the least, and I looked at him with wide eyes until my brain started to work again. "Oh! Uh…I don't know, just something I picked up on quickly in my training. I started with throwing knives," I pulled one out of its vest pocket to show him, then replaced it. "Then I started using straight daggers," I slid one from my boot, "then a curved dagger," I pulled the curved knife from the same boot. "When I was in training for my first mission in Italy, my Mentor had me try the Sai blades," I pulled both from my vest and stood up to let Ratonhnhake:ton see them.

Looking the blades over with much interest, he smirked, but handed them back to me. "How many blades do you have? And what other weapons do you use?"

I smiled and pointed to each blade as I counted them off, "I have sixteen throwing knives and the Sai blades on this vest, two straight and two curved daggers on the sides of my boots," I flicked my toe, "one blade in each shoe," I flicked my foot again, and then flicked my wrists for my hidden blades to extend out, "and two hidden blades. A grand total of twenty-six," I smiled.

Ratonhnhake:ton smirked at me slightly, "what do you need to learn from me?"

" _Um_ , archery, different tactics in climbing, how to hunt…tracking…and I think anything else that falls under surviving," I shrugged my shoulders.

"It sounds that you have no experience in the woods."

"Yeah, that sums it up," I nodded my head and laughed nervously. "Can I make you a deal if you're interested?"

He raised a quizzical eyebrow but did not comment.

"If you teach me archery, I can teach you how to throw knives. If you do well I'll buy you a knife belt when we go to town."

Ratonhnhake:ton smirked, and nodded in agreement, "we have a deal."

For the rest of the afternoon, Ratonhnhake:ton showed me how to shoot archery. With my previous training back home, I knew the basics of stance and how to aim. My aim was decent on an inanimate object, but a moving target would die of old age before I killed it with an arrow. We ended our day when dinner was prepared, and for the rest of the evening, I was curled under my blankets trying to rid the chills from my body and rubbing my aching fingers.


	6. Six- Dakota

_Six- Dakota_

"So I promised you to teach you throwing knives," I smiled to Ratonhnhake:ton, "still interested?"

"If you are willing to teach me," he responded.

I giggled, "of course I am."

I set up the same targets Ratonhnhake:ton used to teach me archery against the backside of the horse stables. I pulled out a throwing knife from my corset and handed it to Ratonhnhake:ton, and unsheathed one for myself to demonstrate with. Quickly I went over footing and arm motions without letting go of the knife, and the proper follow through motions when releasing the knife towards his target.

"First off, the two ways that I learned to throw knives," I smiled before demonstrating the proper techniques. I ended the demonstration with a full show of the throw, my blade cutting dead center of our target.

Ratonhnhake:ton repeated my steps. Upon the release of the blade, he did not put a great force behind the throw, and the blade sliced its way into the bottom right of the target.

I smiled reassuringly, "not bad for your first throw!"

I pulled out two more blades, handed one off to Ratonhnhake:ton, and placed the knife in the pitch grip. I showed him different finger placements before throwing my knife at the target, which landed right next to my other blade. Ratonhnhake:ton threw the knife harder this time during his release. The knife cut through the air and landed only a few inches below my two blades. I could see that he was happier about his second throw.

For the rest of the morning, Ratonhnhake:ton practiced under my instruction on throwing knives. By the end of the session, he was able to hit the center of the target, but he needed a little more work on how hard he threw. With the force in which he was throwing, he would only find himself injuring his target rather than delivering a deathly blow. With my experience in throwing knives, I was capable of splitting a man's skull and sinking the blade into the brain's frontal lobe on frontal attacks. With every skill comes practice and perfection, and Ratonhnhake:ton possessed the conviction to conquer anything he set his mind too.

When Achilles wasn't teaching Ratonhnhake:ton the ways of the Assassin's, we were outside training. At least Ratonhnhake:ton and I were getting along; we seemed to get each other's sense of humor, and he was an eager student in his training. When I had nothing else to teach him, Ratonhnhake:ton taught me how to shoot archery and how to use a tomahawk. As the weather was improving, he started to teach me how to climb trees and move along the treetops. He moved with such ease through the branches that I had difficulties keeping up; mostly from the constant fear of falling. Before I knew it, Ratonhnhake:ton had stopped and was looking out from the branches. I approached slowly and clung onto the tree trunk. I looked out from the branches to find a beautiful, untouched valley.

"Wow," I gasped, "it's beautiful."

Ratonhnhake:ton glanced over at me.

I returned the glance, "I…don't get to see sights like this much."

"Where are you from?"

"I'm a city girl," I smiled lightly, "I never really experienced the outdoors like this."

He made a screwed up expression, I could tell he couldn't relate to the feeling.

I gave a little laugh, "you know, the only other time I've ever climbed a tree…I got chased out by a guard."

"Are you not allowed to climb trees?"

"Oh, no, you're allowed. I had tried climbing a cherry blossom tree during the city's Cherry Blossom Festival. I guess it's frowned upon to climb the trees that are being celebrated," I smirked.

Ratonhnhake:ton raised his eyebrows and smirked.

"Now…how exactly do you get down?" I asked, peering down from the branch I was standing on, but keeping a firm grip on the tree trunk.

"You can either climb or jump down."

"Oh," I nodded slowly, " _fun_."

"What? Are you scared of heights?" He asked as he casually balanced himself on the tree branch.

"Not heights, exactly," I smirked. "The _ground_ , however, is the suspicious part."

Once again we were sprinting through the trees on the way back to the manor. Ratonhnhake:ton was ahead of me by a few paces, but I was happily keeping up with him. Then, of course, I either slipped or completely misplaced a step, slamming my chest into the tree branch that was intended to be my next step. I threw my arms around the tree branch, luckily to have enough strength in my arms to keep my body up even with the air knocked out of my lungs. Ratonhnhake:ton turned at the sound of my body hitting the tree branch and came back to help. I pulled myself onto the branch and caught my breath for a moment before I let out a laugh.

"Are you alright?" He asked with softness in his voice.

"Climb trees they said, it will be fun they said." I smiled up at him, and laughed, "Yes, I'm fine."

We headed back to the manor, where we found Achilles sitting on a rock in the backyard, staring out to the open valley. He watched the two of us approach, keeping any type of readable emotion from reaching the surface.

"Dakota, you do swim, yes?" Achilles asked, returning his gaze to the valley.

"I do," I nodded, glancing to Ratonhnhake:ton with a curious gaze.

"Good," Achilles stood, using his cane as support, and then pointed to the ledge. "It is time to show the boy a true Leap of Faith."

 _Ah, shit._

"Stand at the ready, and wait for my signal, I want him to see its full form."

I moved to my position, casually getting a sneak peek of the height to the water and the rocks that were close to the shore. I wish I hadn't. I backed myself away from the ledge, stripping myself of my weapons since I knew what I was getting myself into down below- I didn't need anything to weigh me down against the choppy waves. Achilles was talking to Ratonhnhake:ton in the distance, his head bobbing as he spoke and pointing every now and again to the ledge and the water below. Finally, he waved his hand and pointed to me, my signal to take the leap.

I took my steps to the ledge with anxiety. I could do a Leap of Faith in a situation where my life depended on either facing the guys with swords or the hope that something was there to catch me on the other side of whatever the fuck I got myself into. Doing leaps just to leap was not my favorite thing to do, maybe it had something to do with being picked up and thrown off the platform when I was in training. My slow cautious steps turned into a run, and in just a few short seconds, my feet left the ground. My arms out to my sides, I sprung from the ledge and started my fall. It could have been the air rushing by my ears, but I swore I could hear the cry of an eagle somewhere nearby. I gracefully timed out when to turn myself towards the water and bring my hands together to hit the water, diving into the waves. The water was still cold, shocking my system. I swam to the surface, breaking the water with a gasp before swimming back to shore where Achilles stood with his pupil.

Achilles was smirking, as was Ratonhnhake:ton. I tried to keep my dirty look to a minimum before I grabbed my hair and started ringing it out. Achilles recapped his former lesson with the significance of the Leap of Faith to his student as I slouched my away back up the hill to collect my belongings.

"Couldn't've just jumped off the roof of the house. _Noooo_ , we had to jump off a cliff into ice water. Have a splendid day with your pneumonia."

Ratonhnhake:ton let out a chuckle at my mumblings. At least _he_ thought it was funny.


	7. Seven- Dakota

_**Seven- Dakota**_

 _March 5th, 1770_

After a rather long and cold travel by carriage, Achilles, Ratonhnhake:ton, and I arrived in Boston to buy the needed materials to repair the manor in Davenport. Ratonhnhake:ton was amazed by the city and its people, the life and opportunities he could not even imagine; a new world so incredibly different from his Mohawk village. For me, I could share with Ratonhnhake:ton's thrill as I walked the streets of Boston in Colonial times. It was always an amazing moment to see a city in its beginnings, but to see the home of such extraordinary American history without the modern buildings and roadways was something that filled me with incredible pride. Achilles snickered at the two of us looking up in awe at buildings and the streets full of people, noting that he too knew what it was like to be entranced by the wonders of a big city.

We stopped on a street corner where Achilles handed Ratonhnhake:ton a list of supplies he required and his red pouch full of money.

"You are also going to need a new name," he said to Ratonhnhake:ton. "Your skin is fair enough that you might pass for one with Spanish or Italian blood." Achilles glanced over to me, but returned his attention back to Ratonhnhake:ton, "better to be thought a Spaniard than a Native. And both are still better than I."

The look upon Ratonhnhake:ton's face in that moment made my heart ache, "That is not true."

Achilles straightened his posture and looked Ratonhnhake:ton in the eyes, "What is _true,_ and what _is_ aren't always the same."

"What would you call me then?" Ratonhnhake:ton asked softly.

I smiled, awaiting Achilles to reply. He looked down for a moment contemplating, and when he had his answer, he looked to Ratonhnhake:ton,

"Connor. Yes, that will be your name. Now, off you go, and Dakota, make sure he doesn't cause _too_ much trouble."

I laughed and smiled, "of course he won't, Achilles." I turned around and nudged Connor lightly, "Come on _Connor_ ; let's see what we can get ourselves into, _hmm_?" I could quickly get used to calling Ratonhnhake:ton by his new pseudonym. I pulled him away from his mentor and made my way towards a large brick building nearby. "Ready to try out some of your climbing skills in the city?"

He nodded, and I smirked.

I took a moment to look around for guards or anyone that would reprimand us for scaling the State House. No one was paying the two of us any mind, and so I began my climb, using a window ledge to get myself started. I reached the roof, pulling myself up and gaining my balance on the sharply slanted shingles. Connor pulled himself up moments later, giving a quick glance towards the ground. I took the lead to climb the tower, stopping at the very top and looking out at the sights of Boston.

Connor cautiously made his way to stand next to me, "You are anxious climbing trees, but not climbing buildings."

I laughed, "The city and it's rooftops are my mastery. Just like how the frontier and it's trees are yours. Whenever you're ready, we can continue on."

"What do you propose?"

"That's easy," I smiled and pulled my hood up.

I could see the curious look in his eyes before I turned and leapt from the roof. I landed hard but safely within a haycart. I jumped out and looked up to Connor, who was watching at the buildings edge. He made his own leap a few moments later, to which he slowly crawled out of the hay.

"You'll get use to the shock. And the landing," I smiled. "Come on, we have matters to attend too."

Together, we took in the sites as we walked down the street in search of the General Store. After a few moments with a lack of any type of conversation, I started to point out large crowds to Connor, and explained how great people were to help an Assassin blend when in need of a hiding place. He began to observe the crowds, figuring out what was too thin to hide within, while others were quite thick with people. I could tell, the further we walked through the city, the more uneasy he felt. He would look over his shoulder, keep himself at the ready to spring into action at the slightest encounter. It was the same unease I had in the woods, but where he was calm and collected. The two of us together was bound to make an interesting duo.

We walked down streets and turned corners, then passed one of the city's biggest vendor markets. I pointed out the General Store on the next block corner, and Connor took the lead towards our destination. Upon arriving, I eavesdropped on locals banter and rave about politics to get a feel of what part of history I was walking through. _The American_ _Revolution_ , I thought to myself feeling all giddy inside. I followed Connor inside the General Store, where a warm fire was there to greet cold-stricken customers. Once inside, I gave one big sweeping look around, basking in the era of the day.

"You _lost_?" asked an irritated sounding man behind the wooden counter, as he glared at Connor.

I moved to Connor's side and leaned myself against the counter. Connor handed the man the list of items Achilles had given him earlier. "We need the items on this list."

"And will you be paying with coin or _trade_?" The man asked with little interest.

Connor pulled out the bag of coins, and the man's eyes brightened, his entire posture changed. He began to explain what his store had in stock, but he did not have the lumber we required. Connor emptied the contents of the bag onto the counter, unknowing of what the cost was to be. The man began to pull coins his way, with a smirk dripping with arrogance. Knowing what that look meant, I pulled my right Sai blade from the vest just enough to show the blade; the sound of the metal made the man look up.

"Don't even think about it," I growled.

The man's eyes alighted with fear, replaced five coins, and pushed the rest back to Connor. "Where do you want this delivered?" The man asked nervously, I slid the blade back into place.

Connor returned the coins to Achilles' pouch and replied nicely, "Our wagon is near the State House."

We left the General Store and began to walk back to find Achilles when Connor asked about my actions at the store; I replied honestly. "That man was about to take too much coin from you on purpose. He knew that neither of us had any idea what the total amount was to be, so he thought he could slip a few coins in for himself."

"How could you tell he was taking too much?" Connor asked softly.

"I have always been good at reading people's emotions and judging thoughts by their expressions. It is something I already know _you_ will be good at when you get more experience."

"Could you teach me?" He asked, looking sideways at me as we walked.

"I wish I could teach you, but it is something you learn on your own."

He was quiet for a moment, but then asked, "How can you tell I will be able to read people?"

Chuckling, I replied, "I can't read your expressions, I can't get a good sense of your emotions, so in tale, I can't read your mind. If you can fool a master, then I'm pretty certain you'll come by it naturally. But for the longer we get to know each other I _might_ be able to crack you."

Connor gave me a sideways look, and I could tell he was suppressing a smirk.

I held up my hands, "Hey, I said _might_." At this, he laughed.

As we rounded the street corner, the sights quickly changed for the worse. The people of Boston were fighting against the British officers in the streets, and there was a group gathering up ahead of us. I eyed our surroundings, looking for some sort of leverage. When I spotted a path from harm's way, I tugged on Connor's elbow. He looked at me with some confusion, but I just nodded my head for him to follow. We quickly scaled the side of the building nearest us, and perched ourselves on the rooftop.

"Quick lesson- always give yourself a vantage point to plan out your options." I said as I scanned the crowd, "So, we're looking for Achilles; he shouldn't be far. Do you have the sight?"

"'The _sight_?'" Connor repeated, sounding a tad taken aback. "Yes…how did you know?"

"I have it too, all Assassin's do. We can use it now while we're up here to figure out friends from foes, and to help find our targets. See if you can find Achilles."

Connor took a few moments, his eyes scanning across the crowd slowly, making sure not to skip over anyone. "There," he pointed.

"Alright," I smiled, "let's go."

We scaled down the side of the building and sprinted to Achilles. He was about half the distance from the Customs House, calmly standing while the chaos of locals and redcoats fighting happened around him as if it was something that occurred every day.

"Achilles, what's happened?" I asked.

"I'm not sure, but we are going to find out. Follow me."

Together, we walked towards the growing group of angry Bostonians. The shouts of people echoed along the street, growing louder with our every step. I watched several civilians take to fighting redcoats while more civilians gathered to watch them brawl. Once we reached the Customs House, we could hear the voice of a redcoat telling the citizens to disperse. It finally clicked in my head on what part of history we were in, and what was about to happen. _Such a horrible feeling_ , I thought to myself, _to know something terrible is about to happen._

"Achilles, Connor, stay away from the front line." I said, keeping the two moving to the left side of the group.

"Why?" Connor asked, "What is happening?"

I shook my head, "I can't explain what is about to happen. It just _has_ to happen for you to see."

Achilles moved between Connor and me, "What is it, Dakota?"

I looked to Achilles, then back at the crowd, "Trouble… _lots_ of it."

Suddenly, Achilles grabbed Connor's arm, " _There_!"

I looked to see what he was pointing at, and I saw the man. Haytham Kenway, a tall man dressed to the nines and hands folded behind his back, stood beside the State House next to another man I did not know. He looked arrogant, as if it oozed from him; it made me frown with distaste.

Connor replied stunned for he saw him too, "Is that…my father?" He looked at me with a heartbreaking face full of what seemed to be pain and wonder.

"Yes," Achilles replied, "Which means Dakota is right- trouble is sure to follow. I need you to tail his accomplice; this crowd is a powder-keg; we can't allow him to light the fuse. Do so alone, Dakota and I need to stay here in case there is more trouble here."

Connor left to trail the accomplice and I turned to Achilles, knowing what was about to happen.

"Achilles, I am begging you. You must leave this area."

He looked at me with stern eyes, "Dakota, we need to keep watch on Haytham."

I shook my head, "Listen to me, there is not much time-"

"-Connor will finish this and nothing is going to happen."

Frustrated, I pulled Achilles close so I could whisper in his ear, "No matter what Connor does, these people are going to be shot and _we_ are in the middle of it. It's going to be a bloodbath."

Achilles finally gave me a look that told me he believed me, but it was too late. A shot rang out, and the redcoats yelled to fire upon the crowd. Soon, there were several gunshots, and people dropped around us. Achilles moved as quickly as he could with the fleeing crowd, and ordered me to find Connor, slipping a piece of paper into my hand. I did as I was told and dispersed into the manic crowd. With no idea where Connor could be, or how long he would be in hiding for, I moved around the city. A blistering wind whipped up snow in my face, sending shivers through my entire body. Two hours went past, and as the sun finally set, I could no longer stand that miserable wind. Ducking in an alleyway between two large buildings, I attempted to move myself from the wind for a few moments as I scanned the streets folding out before me. Remembering the paper Achilles had given me; I pulled it from my robes and read it over. There were only two words written on it: _Samuel Adams_. So I had a name, but not idea how to find him.

I set off to the Northwest, ripping down freshly printed WANTED posters on with was young Connor's face. I came upon the city's trading market once again, and there I found Connor approaching a man who was well dressed. He began to speak with the man, and I moved in closer. Just then, a town crier stepped out from both Connor and the mysterious man, and announced that the shooter of the massacre was in disguise. As the man spoke, I moved beside Connor, and listened to the Crier finish his statement.

Connor slightly jumped when he noticed I was standing beside him.

I smirked, "Sorry."

The well-dressed man looked at me with curious eyes, "And who is this?"

I smirked, extending my hand to the man, "Name's Dakota."

"Samuel Adams," the man announced as we shook hands.

"Pleasure to meet you," I smiled, "Achilles sent me to find you two."

Sam smiled, "It makes perfect sense to me. Now, come Connor and Dakota, there is still one last bit of work to do."

Connor and I walked slightly behind Sam; we soon found out that our new destination was to a friend that could help stop the WANTED posters going out all over town. We quickly ran into problems, as the redcoats set up checkpoints throughout town from the events that had transpired that day.

"I know of a better way," Sam suggested, "The Mason's have a whole network of tunnels under the city. They're quite useful when speed and secrecy are required."

We followed Sam through the night fallen streets, past redcoats blocking side paths, and through a tight fitting alleyways occupied by some suspicious looking people wandering about. At every intersection of an alleyway and the main streets, we had to peek around corners and dart across to the next stealthy place free from redcoat patrols. Three out of four ways to the tunnel's entrance were blocked by redcoat checkpoints. With some slight adjusting to our course, we finally made it back to what looked like to be cellar stairs, but it was the entrance to Underground Boston. A vast network of dark underground tunnels, filled with rats and God knows what else, made a maze under the city life. We traveled quickly, lighting lanterns hung upon the walls every so often so we could find our way back. Connor led the way with Sam closely behind, choosing to let Connor learn from trial and error, as I followed behind with a Sai blade in hand.

After a decent journey through the tunnel system, Connor led us to a locked wooden door. Upon Sam's request, Connor picked the lock and opened it, revealing a steep staircase to the outside world.


	8. Eight- Dakota

_**Eight- Dakota**_

After sorting out dealings at the printing press, Connor and I were both exhausted from our adventures from the day. Sam offered us a place to stay the night, and we were both very grateful. The next morning, Sam took us to the Harbor Master to which we were able to set sail. It would be a long and cold trip; I outwardly groaned when I figured out the time and distance that we would be aboard. Worst of all- I left my black backpack in the carriage, thinking that would be the way of returning home.

We boarded the ship after saying our goodbyes and thank yous to Sam. Upon boarding, we soon learned that the captain also happened to be one of Sam's friends. _Good to have friends in high places,_ I thought to myself. There was one small room for the two of us, offering one small bed and a writing desk with a rickety chair.

"You may take the bed," Connor offered.

I smiled, "Thank you. But, it's fairer if we share it in shifts, you know? We can figure out a system later."

We would never figure out a system that allowed us to share the bed. When we finally settled into our small space, I laid myself down for only a few minutes after we departed. The rise and fall of the ship along the waves was one thing to handle standing up, but laying down sent me straight into a nauseated state.

I sat myself up, "I do _not_ have a stomach for this."

"What is the matter?"

"Lying flat with the waves isn't sitting well with me at _all_. I wonder…" I stood up with my curiosity, "Maybe I can remedy our sleeping arrangement dilemma."

We moved from our quarters and into the hall of the ship, on the hunt for materials. When no one was looking, we snagged a large fishing net that had been cast aside. The rope was thick and strong, most importantly it smelled and looked unused. I figured I could make use of it and balled it up under my arm. Upon returning to our quarters, we made haste on creating a hammock and hanging it.

When the hammock was finished and hung, I inspected our handiwork, "Oh, I am _so_ keeping this."

I pulled myself into the hammock and laid down, instantly accepting that I had made a great choice. The hammock, unlike the bed, was able to swing gently with the movements of the ship. It actually kept me from getting sick, which didn't affect Connor as much when he laid flat. Solving two of our issues aboard, I could find a silver lining with our sea journey home.

Connor didn't say much as we suffered the sail back to Davenport. On our tenth day of sailing, I found him sitting alone on the upper deck after breakfast. I sat next to him with two extra bread rolls in hand, offering him one without a word.

He took it tentatively, "Where did you find these?"

"Stole'em," I shrugged, taking a bite of mine. For a moment it looked like he was going to hand it back, but he gave a little shrug and took a bite. "So what's got you down, Ratonhnhake:ton?"

He gave me a screwed up look. My words were obviously lost on him.

"Seriously, what's on your mind?"

"Why would Achilles just leave us like he did?" Connor replied after a few moments.

"I can think of two reasons. The first was his own need to get to safety since he cannot fight like he once could. The other," I smirked a little, "field training."

"Haven't I been through enough of that already?"

"Lessons will never beat out experience. Take it from me," I gave him a wink. "But you won't hear me protest you giving Achilles a piece of your mind when we get back if that's what you want to do."

When we arrived back to Davenport, Connor made sure Achilles knew he was not at all happy with him leaving us in Boston. Achilles however had a very well put point for Connor, which boiled down that Connor's night of Hell in Boston was all for experience as an Assassin. I agreed with Achilles, but I sympathized with Connor. He was already prepared for Achilles speech from our little talk aboard the ship, but he had few more topics he let loose on that he had not asked me.

Connor was still so full of anger, "And what of my father?"

"Into the wind, I'm afraid," replied Achilles coolly.

"We have to find him!" Connor said determinedly.

"And we will, after the house has been repaired."

Connor was increasing becoming annoyed, "but he's out there plotting who knows what!"

Achilles looked at him sharply, "And what would you do when you found him? _If_ you found him? You are a boy with a few months of training; he is a man, full grown who spent _decades_ honing his skills. If you are going to stand a chance against the Templar's, you're going to need these." Achilles picked up a chest sitting beside him on the table and handed it to Connor.

Taking the chest from Achilles, Connor opened the lid. As he peered inside his face lit up with delight, and looked to Achilles.

Achilles sat back, "go on before I change my mind."

Connor slipped his hidden blades on over his sleeves, and held his arms in the anatomical position to show us. He looked to me standing in the corner; I smiled at him and held out my own arm and gave my wrist a quick flick which released the blade from its sheath, then quickly retracting them with another flick. Connor repeated my motion with both wrists, and two silver blades slid out quickly. He smiled down at his blades, and flicked his wrists again for the blades to retract.

Suddenly, there was banging on a window of the dining room. There stood a man in quite distress screaming for help. Connor went out to the man, and I followed quickly behind. Only catching the last bit of sentence the man was saying, I heard the words "in the river." Running behind the two, we approached the river not far from the house only to find a man clinging for his life on a log. The man was floating downstream towards a rushing waterfall, and if that was not enough to kill the man, hypothermia would set in quickly. Connor ran along the river keeping pace with the current, not once skimming the water until he reached an overlapping tree branch, and dove into the water right before the crest of the waterfall. He pulled the man to the riverbank where I and the man who called for help stood. The man helped both Connor and the almost-drowned man to their feet, thanking Connor for his help.

"What were you doing on those logs?" Connor asked.

"Dangers of lumbering; we've got the camp set up a few rods from here as we were cuttin' timber. We're hoping to open a mill in the area."

Connor turned and pointed to the hill behind us, "there is a good place not far from the manor on the hill where I am staying."

The man laughed, "I like you already! We'll have a look."

Later that day, after dinner, Connor and I walked with Achilles to an old wooden shack across the lake from an old, torn down ship. It was a sad sight to see, for this ship looked like it had been beautiful. Connor knocked on the door to the shack, only to be greeted with a muffled "go away!" Achilles nodded, and Connor opened the door anyways. Inside the smelly hut sat a drunken man dressed in some sort of uniform.

After saying some comment to Connor about not speaking English, the man saw Achilles behind him. "Aw, didn't see you there old man." I followed in from behind Achilles, "And a _lady_ person! Who is she?" The astonishment in his voice was amusing.

Achilles introduced us to Mr. William Faulkner, and from there I paid no real attention to the conversation because I was too distracted at the smell and messy condition of the hut. It was starting to make me flush and lightheaded, and I desperately wanted to go back into the fresh air. The drunken man seemed to have no real enthusiasm to the conversation until Achilles mentioned about _restoring_ something. My curiosity peaked, and it was enough of a word to get the drunken man to his feet and out the door of the shack.

Mr. Faulkner raised his bottle of booze out to a broken down ship in the bay, and spoke with slurred words. "She's still the fastest in the Atlantic. Sure, she needs some attention… _minor_ things mostly, but with a little affection she'll _fly_ again."

I leaned up against the wooden shack and watched Connor speak with the man. "Who is ' _she_ '?" Connor asked; the comment made me snort.

Mr. Faulkner turned and gave an angry look, "who is ' _she_ '? Why, the _Aquila_ , boy; the ghost of the North Seas!"

Connor took a second, "The boat?"

I couldn't stop from letting out a loud laugh at Mr. Faulkner's twisted expression.

"A-a _boat_?! She's a ship boy, and make no mistake about it!"

Mr. Faulkner leaned over and mumbled something to Achilles, in which he saw fit to take his leave, and excuse me from the scene as well; leaving Connor to speak with Mr. Faulkner.

"Well," I said to Achilles as we walked back to the manor, "Looks like I'll have a place for my hammock after all."

I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms, staring outside at the landscape from one of the bedroom windows. There was suddenly a low creaking noise from a floorboard in the hall. I glanced over my shoulder to find Connor about to knock on my opened door. I smirked at his stunned expression that he was discovered so quickly, and he hesitantly lowered his fist.

"Hi," I giggled.

"Hello, uh…" He blinked in a way that told me he forgot what he needed to say.

"Are you and Achilles done already for the day?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"You can come in, you know," I smirked.

He nodded again, and moved to be opposite me at the window.

I scrambled in my mind for a subject of conversation that could engage him for more than a few words. I blurted out, "I like your necklace, by the way."

Connor's reflection in the window glass showed a slightly stunned expression. His crossed arms dropped to his side and he straightened himself up. "It was my mother's."

I let out a small humming noise, "We have something in common then." I pulled out my mother's rosary from underneath my robes, "this belonged to my mom. She gave it to me…well…as she died."

"As did mine," Connor said softly.

I smiled sympathetically and changed the subject, "So what do you think of the Assassins so far?"

Connor shrugged, "Achilles tells me everything takes time, but I am eager."

"I can understand why," I sighed, "but remember I'll be here to help sometimes."

"Why is it that you have come? I still do not understand."

With a laugh, I tried to explain, "I was chosen for an... _experiment_. The Assassin's want a new, faster way to train their initiates so they can be useful against the Templar's. So, they sent me back to train, and gain experience from Assassin's that can't be offered otherwise. But…the mentors still think I'm not ready to be in the field."

"What do you mean, they _sent you back_?"

I smiled, "Achilles truly hasn't told you much about me has he?" Connor shook his head, so I explained everything the best way I could, starting with, "I'm not...from your time. I was born November twenty-second, Nineteen-Ninety- Six." I left out the legend of the "Ghost" on purpose, knowing Achilles will end up telling him about _la bella Assassina_ ; I wanted to know if Connor could connect the dots.

He eyed me with disbelief, like at any moment I was going to tell him I was joking. "You are serious?"

I nodded, "Believe it or not, but I learned with Ezio and under mentors like La Volpe in Italy. You wonder how my skills in the city are so prominent, and it is because of the missions I served there in their time."

"But you fight well, and you know so much. What more are your Mentors asking by sending you here?"

"They want me to be able to survive. When I went to Italy the first time, they taught me the basics before I left. I learned how to hold my own by guarding courtesans, and occasionally had to fight off a bunch of drunken men. The second time I went, I learned how to be a thief for both coins and information."

"When you learn to… _survive_ , will you be leaving?"

"Well, I'll leave here tomorrow. I'll be back again though," I shrugged. "It's…complicated, and it takes a lot of time. I have to master all of the skills you can teach me and that way I can go back home and prove to the Mentor's that I _can_ be in the field. But to do that, I'm here throughout your own story, as it were."

"You will succeed," he said.

I smiled, "thank you. At least I know you have faith in me."

He nodded with a small smile.

Saying goodbye the next day was awkward in the least. Achilles asked when I was to be expected back, and I promised to be back by 1773. Connor did not seem to like the jump in years; his mouth tightened in a hard line and his eyebrows were pulled together as if in deep thought. I shook Achilles extended hand, which ended up in a hug. Connor only offered a slight nod goodbye. I left the manor, walking into the woods and finding a nice hiding spot until I was called back. Concealed by trees, not far from the manor, was a bluff overlooking a valley below with a beautiful view of the landscape. I sat myself down near the cliff's edge, and watched the clouds roll by.

After about a half hour, I felt the tingling sensation all over my body that suddenly turned into an explosion of silver light. The pains of being torn apart and brought back together were quick, and I found myself upon the lab table in present day.


	9. Nine- Dakota

_**Nine- Dakota**_

 _October 31_ _st_ _, 1773_

The breeze had a slight chill against a warm sun, indicating that autumn was well underway. Once again, I stood upon the hillside in which was overlooked by the Davenport homestead manor. This time, however, the trees were clinging onto the last colored leaves of the autumn season, rather than being snowy skeletons reaching upwards to the sky. Filled with a few anxieties as I walked onwards towards the manor, mostly about being reaccepted by Connor after leaving for three years, I chewed on my fingernails and took in nature around me. By the sun's position in the sky, it was around midday; I hoped I would not disturb Achilles and Connor's lunch, or even find that they were busy along the homestead at this hour. On my walk, I noticed a new home had been set up along the path, and by the looks of it, the man was a craftsman. _Connor has been busy_ , I thought to myself as I passed the small wooden cabin. Remembering the time that Connor helped save the one lumberjacks from going over an icy cold waterfall, I wondered what fateful event had brought upon bringing a carpenter to the homestead. This thought sprouted to yet another recollection of my first visit to the colonial times; what of the _Aquila_? All of my questions would be answered in time, but I couldn't help but wonder what part in restoring the _Aquila_ could have achieved.

I made a shortcut over a small hill, onto the main drive of the manor, and hurried my way to the steps; I heard the front door of the manor open and close. Out stepped a large man dressed in white robes with blue accents. His hood was down, but he was donned with a bow across his chest and a tomahawk at his side. Leaning against one of the white pillars with his arms crossed, I stared at the handsome grown man who was to tower over me. He had broad shoulders with a broad chest, long legs, and arms that looked strong enough to kill someone without the aid of weaponry. Half of his hair was pulled back down, but still kept cut above the shoulders. He filled out his robes like a real warrior, and he was still just seventeen.

" _Connor_?" I asked with excitement and a wide smile.

A small smile lifted the corners of his lips as he straightened himself to walk down and greet me.

"Oh my _God_ , Connor! Look at _you_!" I flung my arms around his torso, to which he slowly placed an arm around my shoulders.

"You have not changed a bit," Connor smiled lightly down to me.

"But _you have_. It's good to see you," I smiled, pulling away.

"It does me well to see you."

Connor lead me inside the manor as I spoke, "so tell me what you've been up to these last three years."

"Three years and seven months," Connor muttered his correction before quickly adding, "Since you left, I have trained more, and even sailed aboard the _Aquila_."

I smiled as my prior questions were being answered quickly. We walked into the dining room of the manor where Achilles sat.

"Dakota, it is good to see you," Achilles smiled, his voice as shaky as it had always been.

"Hello, Achilles! It is good to see you, as well. Connor was just catching me up on all that I've missed."

Achilles chuckled, "I must say it was very quiet here without you around."

I blushed slightly but laughed, "You've missed my Italian flare then, is it?"

Another chuckle from Achilles, and even a slight laugh from Connor, "I suppose that's what it is. Connor, help Dakota settle into her room, would you?"

Connor led me upstairs to the spare bedroom. When I entered, I was surprised to see that the two men spruced up the room for my stays. They removed all of the unneeded furniture and had even gone as far as getting a new bed, writing desk, and a small vanity. A fire was already burning evenly in the fireplace, warming the room with heat and a soft glow.

"Did you guys…do this for me?" I asked feeling truly touched they would do such a thing.

Connor nodded, "Yes, we did. Achilles and I found it necessary to prepare a proper room for you now that we knew you were truly coming. We have a woodworker on the homestead now, he made these for us so we could have them for your return," he waved over the new furniture.

" _Thank you_ ," I said looking around the room, "it is really…generous and unexpected."

Connor enticed me into going to see the newly refurbished _Aquila_ later that evening after I was settled in. Together we strolled down the hillside; Connor retold the events after my leaving three years ago, mostly tales filled with his naval trips. He also told me that he had been promoted to be captain of the ship he helped restore.

I smiled and giggled, " _Ooh_ , I didn't know I was in the presence of a _captain_."

He smirked and I could see that his cheeks flushed.

We rounded a bend in the hill where the ship came into sight. It looked nothing like the first time I was here on the homestead when the _Aquila_ was nothing more but a half sunk ship with broken masts and splintering wood. Completely restored to a former glory, the masts stood high with new white sails at the ready, and two levels of cannon hauls were prepared for battle. She was painted up with blue and white, proudly docked in the bay, awaiting her captain. My jaw dropped, excited to see Connor's pride and joy. Once on the dock, Connor invited me aboard to see the internal restorations, giving me a firsthand tour of the upper and lower decks. We ended the tour at the helm, where I found a use of the corner writing desk as my seat. Connor eyed me with a smirk as I crossed one leg over the other, making myself comfortable.

"I claim this as my spot," I smiled at him.

"You are willing to come along?" His smirk widened as he placed a hand coolly at the helm.

"Wherever you go, I go...as long as you're still okay with that. _Captian_ ," I winked.

"Of course," he smiled. "That is why I already have your hammock on board."

I let out a laugh, "I almost forgot about that thing! It's been a rough two weeks. So…tell me how you ran into some trouble in Martha's Vineyard?"

Connor told his story about the first time he set sail on the _Aquila_ while I pulled and twisted my rosary. When Connor finished telling me about his… _slight_ altercation with Benjamin Church and Nicholas Biddle I couldn't help but shake my head and laugh.

Connor and I stayed on the _Aquila_ until the sun started to set over the homestead. Even then, after losing track of time, we were distracted by our flow of conversation about anything we could think up. He told me how he had infiltrated Fort Wolcott and had the _Aquila_ bombard it while was still inside, explaining everything in great detail about the moment when the cannons started to rain hell. I stared at him with my jaw hitting the floor, knowing all too well he wasn't making it up. He filled me in on the woodworker now settled in the homestead, a man named Lance he had crossed paths with one day that was being threatened by some British regulars. He promised an introduction soon.

The only thing that made us return to the manor was the steadily growing appetite for dinner. Achilles was already concealed in his room for the night, but we were unsure if he was asleep. Out of courtesy, Connor and I tried to keep our noise to a minimum while we made potato soup in the kitchen. We were doing pretty good teamwork in silence, communicating through different expression changes and all over body language- until an almost unfortunate incident where a measurement of milk was nearly knocked off the counter. I snorted, trying my best not to let the full laugh out, meeting Connor's wide eyes as he caught the jar before it fell. I bit my lip, trying not to let any more giggles out, but only infecting Connor with the same ailment. For a few moments, we couldn't look at each other or risk laughing.

As the soup was stewing, I leaned against the counter beside Connor. "So how _is_ training?"

He looked down at me with raised eyebrows in a do-you-really-want-to-know style.

"Oh," I smiled knowingly, "I see. Well, I'm sure _I_ can still take you," my smile turning playful.

"Is that so, Dakota?" He straightened and looked down at me with confidence, completely towering over me.

I examined him from head to toe with a smirk, my hands on my hips, "Absolutely."

Connor looked down at me for a few seconds, completely relaxed with his arms down at his sides. I kept looking at him with a playful smirk, internally urging him to try something. He suddenly picked me up and threw me over his shoulder in one swift motion. I let out a loud squeak, clasping my hand to my mouth to cover my laughing. Connor, too, was laughing, and let me back down to my feet. Even if we tried to regain the quiet atmosphere of the house, we knew it was too late. Achilles would have heard my squeak whether he was awake or asleep. I looked up at Connor when I regained my balance, soundlessly laughing, while he was looking towards Achilles' bedroom door with a guilty and humorous smile.

 _Oh,_ I sighed to myself, _how Achilles is going to regret allowing me to stay here._

The soup was ready not long after we calmed down from our laughing spurt. I cut two slices of bread from the remaining half loaf in the bread box while Connor dished out the potato soup. We lit candles on the dining room table, and closed the doors to limit the amount of noise we made from escaping. Once we ate, we cleaned up the mess we made with the same silent teamwork we briefly achieved earlier, blew out the candles, and went to our respective bedrooms for the night. I closed the bedroom door behind me, and leaned against it, thinking about our shenanigans, and possibly how screwed we were in terms of Achilles hearing our racket. I shook my head and laughed to myself before readying for bed.


	10. Ten- Dakota

_**Ten- Dakota**_

Achilles found ways to keep Connor and me occupied through the following months after our morning workouts. This particular week was concentrated on restoring the sitting room across from my bedroom. During the manor's restoration, the parlor found a new purpose of storing unused furniture among other dust-collectors. Achilles wanted what was useful and what was profitable separated so the room could one day be used for its original purpose of entertaining. I was sifting through a pile of dust covered books, causing me to sneeze every time I examined a new one.

Connor had removed himself a few moments prior to answer a knock on the front door. I was trying to overhear the conversation going on outside as I gazed over the pages of the latest book I picked from the pile. There was another man here, a voice I did not recognize speaking a language that was foreign to me. I dismissed the conversation, barely even raising an eyebrow when Connor shouted in the same language. Heavy footfalls rushing the stairs indicated Connor's reappearance, but a second pair was following behind him, too fast and hard to be Achilles. I looked over the book from my position on the floor to watch Connor and his guest turn from the staircase towards Connor's bedroom.

" _Dakota_!" Called Connor, sounding aggravated.

I closed the book and made my way to the bedroom, "What's up?"

I stopped short at the door when I laid eyes on our guest. I presumed he was from Connor's tribe; the two looked close in age and also in height, leading me to believe this man was Connor's childhood friend he sometimes spoke about. What made me hesitate was remembering my own appearance as the man looked at me with a strange look of confusion. Around the manor, I had a bad habit of wearing clothes from the modern day; I just happened to be in tight fitting blue jeans and a tank top with a rhinestone skull on the front. Even my hair, thrown into a sloppy looking bun, was something to remark. Achilles and Connor had gotten used to my strange and unacceptable womanly wardrobe, but to an outsider of the manor, I looked ridiculously uncommon. Our guest looked me over as my face grew hotter from embarrassment.

"We are going to Boston," Connor said, breaking the silence.

" _Right_ ," I said, pulling out my hair band, bending over to pull my hair into a high ponytail. "What happened?"

"William Johnson intends to purchase the land in which the village stands, _without_ the consent of my people."

"Well shit," I straightened myself and pulled my ponytail tight on the back of my head.

"Achilles believes Sam Adams will be able to help us."

I nodded, "I'll grab my stuff."

Within ten minutes I was dressed in my robes with the essentials packed away in my backpack. I had given up on wearing my makeup, it was too much to deal with on a daily basis with how much Connor and I ran around outside. It also freed up a little bit more room in my backpack that was already stuffed to the brim. I moved swiftly downstairs; Achilles was standing in the doorway to the outside, where Connor and his friend stood. I moved passed Achilles with a slight smile, just as Connor sank a tomahawk into a column at the edge of the stoop, making me jump.

"What have you done?" Achilles remarked with extreme annoyance.

Connor turned to face him, "When my people go to war, a hatchet is buried in a post to signify its start. When the threat has ended, the hatchet is removed." He looked at his friend and nodded before turning away to leave.

I looked at Achilles with a nervous expression, not sure if I should smile or frown, but shrugging all the more before taking off after Connor.

"You could've used a tree!" Achilles called.

At the stables, Connor finally properly introduce me to Kanento:kon, which proved my suspicious of this man being the childhood friend I have heard so much about. Kanento:kon set off to return to their village, while Connor and I were Boston bound by the _Aquila_.

On the way to meet Sam Adams, we came across a man yelling at intruding redcoats from his upstairs window. The armed soldiers had accompanied a taxman with a rather nasally voice to evict the Frenchman defending his home. _Ah, the city_ , I thought to myself. Connor and I did not make an advance until the redcoats moved in to smash in windows with their rifles. Of course, being a loudmouth, I had to verbally make our presence known.

"Aye, there some kind of problem here?" I yelled at the men.

The taxman turned to us with nose high, "By order of the British-"

"-Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get all that. Call off your men or have more issues than you can handle."

"This is official government business, intervening is acting as a traitor to the crown."

"Well intervening is our job, so in that case," I nodded to Connor, and the fight began.

The Frenchman came through his front door wielding a menacing looking butcher's knife. He jumped off the stoop at his door and onto the tax collector, sinking his blade into the man's neck as they fell to the ground. Connor pulled the redcoat closest to him that had been smashing in windows; I immediately took the other redcoat. I pulled my Sai blades and made my advance as the man started to level his rifle. I quickly used the hook of my left Sai to push the gun upwards, and the blade of my right to slice across the soldier's throat. Everything happened so quickly I felt as if I needed to gasp for air. I turned back to Connor and the Frenchman as they were finishing up with their fights. We cleaned up our mess and met outside of the Frenchman's home once the evidence was hidden.

"Justice for once," the Frenchman panted, "I dare the governor to send more."

"You alright?" Connor asked.

"I'm fine. It's not my first dance," the Frenchman smirked, "for all their teeth and claws, these little foxes, they fight like puppies. Thank you," he nodded to me and patted Connor on the arm, "I'd by you two an ale, but uh, I'm expected somewhere else."

We parted ways; I gave Connor a look of approval and a slight shrug before continuing on our way to meet Adams. When we did find our man, it brought us to a meeting with a few men that knew the trading business well- William Molineux the owner of a tavern, and his chef, Stephane Chapheau, the man whose home we had just helped defend.

They sent us on our way to do some spy work on the docks, uncovering the source ships of smuggled tea in which were being overcharged to businesses in the city. Stepping outside of the tavern, a man carrying a crate to the same facility was walking towards us. Connor deliberately walked into the man, causing him to drop the crate which smashed on the ground, spilling out little bags with matching crests stamped onto them. I examined the markings with interest, remembering the details while Connor aggressively stared down the delivery man as he ran away. I gave Connor a cocky smirk before we took off towards the docks.

We waited outside one of the depots until the entirety of the cargo was stored inside. The workers locked the doors and left, giving us the opportunity to break in. Connor and I moved to the double doors to the largest warehouse and found the door was locked with a basic padlock. We both pulled out or lock picking equipment and gave each other the same questionable look.

"I can get it," I smirked.

"So can I," Connor returned with a raised eyebrow.

I sighed, placed my equipment in one hand and held out a fist with the other with a raised eyebrow, "Loser stands watch."

He held out his fist as well, smirking slightly with amusement in his eyes and a raised eyebrow, an expression I've come to know as his _Really, Dakota?_ look. I had taught him rock-paper-scissors during my first visit, at least he remembered. My smirk brightened into a smile. On three, we threw out our selection- I picked scissors, Connor went for paper. I smiled at him triumphantly and moved to the front of the lock while he smirked and leaned against the building with his arms across his chest. Once the lock dropped open, I cracked the door open and entered, closely followed by Connor. We took a quick look around, finding crates on crates of smuggled tea that presented the crest of William Johnson.

"This is the same tea Molineux showed us earlier," Connor said, "This has to be Johnson's."

"It's defiantly some of it," I sighed and received a questionable and clenched jaw in return. "I mean, it takes some time to bring the cargo over, destroying this will leave a dent. But I'm sure this isn't all of it."

"How shall we dispose of it all?" Connor looked down to me.

I looked up with a slight shrug, "Does tea burn?"

He returned the shrug.

"I guess we'll figure out," I said, taking the lead deeper into the warehouse.

Within ten minutes we had the cargo up in flames, and we were fleeing the scene with the casual grace of an average afternoon stroll. I could tell Connor was not at all amused with the thought of more tea somewhere along the horizon. But as for me, I just liked to walk away with chaos going on behind me.


	11. Eleven- Dakota

_**Eleven- Dakota**_

We returned to the tavern to find that Sam and William had left the facility. Stephane, however, was cursing in both French and English in the kitchen. Connor approached him, leaning on the doorframe while I stood back and leaned against the bar.

"Stephane, what is wrong? Where is Sam Adams?"  
 _One question at a time there, Connor,_ I thought to myself, peering over Connor's shoulder into the kitchen.

"Who cares! I've been robbed!" Stephane exclaimed before stammering off in his native language.

He grabbed his butcher's knife and stormed past Connor and me, out the exit and into the streets. I raised an eyebrow and a smirk to Connor and followed the angry chef out the door quickly. Connor quickly caught pace with Stephane as I walked slightly behind the two men.

"Where are _you_ going?" Connor demanded.

"To get back what is rightfully mine!"

We marched through the streets, grabbing attentions of both redcoats and colonists as Stephane went out a rampage, calling out the British crown and its subjects. I noticed colonists beginning to follow us, energized by Stephane's courageous words. As we passed redcoats, they approached our forming riot with intent to stop the brewing storm. The colonists lashed out at them with words followed by physicality. Connor started to plead with Stephane when he began to call out to all around for fighting action.

"Stephane, please! Stop and listen to me."

"I've listened for long enough! They come into _my_ home and take _my_ things? I will get my revenge. The man responsible for this will pay."

Connor looked at me with a look of desperation and displeasure.

I returned his look with a smirk, "I like him. We could use him."

He rolled his eyes at me in return; not exactly the help he was looking for from me.

"Don't be so surprised," I said, "This is Boston- there are always riots in Boston."

Further along the route, Stephane decided to pick a fight with two redcoats who were standing in an alleyway conveniently close to two, even larger, soldiers. I brought myself next to Stephane and pulled out my Sai blades, eyeing up the smaller two redcoats.

"Connor," I said over my shoulder without taking my eyes off the advancing redcoats, "Mind helping with the big boys?"

I jumped into action after Stephane pushed them on and started swinging. I kept pace with the redcoat I was fighting, keeping him in short enough range he could not raise his gun to fire directly. It was almost like I was toying with him, moving at half the speed I could truly fight. The soldier tried to ram me with his bayonet, but I jumped out of the way, grabbed the gun and yanked it from his grasp. The soldier, which during my fighting looked rather young, instantly dropped to his knees and held his arms up. I backed away from him, acknowledging his instant surrender. Stephane had finished off his man, but came running towards mine. I turned just in time and almost tackled the Frenchman to the ground, allowing the young redcoat his escape.

Stephane began swearing at me in French, looking at the fleeing soldier with desperation.

"He's just a kid, only following orders from a king that doesn't even know he exists. He did nothing to you personally; only join an army you dismiss." I growled at him, "I showed mercy. You will learn it, too, one day."

I stood up and dismissed whatever curses flew from Stephane's mouth. I knew one day, if his path was to continue with us after today, he would learn. Connor had already finished off the two larger soldiers, and the march continued on towards the city's most popular marketplace. I kept my distance from Stephane, and retreated to a rooftop to watch the events unfold.

" _Destroyed?!_ " Echoed up to my position from a rather angry man in the market's center. "So you want me to tell Johnson that his tea just spontaneously combusted?"

I couldn't help but smirk as I sat myself down on the roof's slope listening to the man. _Well, of_ course _it spontaneously combusted. Thanks to me and Connor…and some gunpowder._

Stephane moved from the shadows of the alleyway and straight towards the man causing quite a bit of commotion down below. The Frenchman pushed through the people who were surrounding the shouting man, raising his butcher's knife. He brought it right down through the man's shoulder, dropping him to the cobbles. Everyone that had been at the scene scrambled, and Connor walked out to Stephane's side, putting his hand on the Frenchman's shoulder and whispering something before walking away. Stephane removed his butcher's knife from the man's shoulder and with a great amount of force, chopped through the injured man's neck. I had to blink a few times to get the sight out of my head; it was a little too brutal for my tastes. Connor joined me on the rooftop, and gave me an approving look. Stephane joined a few moments later.

"The people seem to have an ear for you," Connor said to Stephane, "What of the things you lost?"

"The people listened to me only because I spoke the truth loud enough, which is one thousand times the contents of my footlocker. The English, the can keep my things."

"You did well tonight," Connor said.

"I said I'd buy you an ale when you first helped me. In place of drink, I offer you my allegiance, for what it's worth."

"Your aid is welcome, and we are grateful."

"Oh, and uh, by the way, Dakota," Stephane said, I looked from the marketplace to him, "my apologies for what happened earlier."

I waved my hand in dismissal, "Don't worry about it."

"Now," Connor switched subjects, "We need to find Sam Adams."

"I know where he is," Stephane said, "Follow me."

After meeting with Sam Adams again that evening, Connor was less than pleased. The final word was for the two of us to wait for more word of the goings on in Boston. Johnson would have ships coming in from across the pond within a few weeks to a few months. I could tell Connor was pissed. We made it back to the _Aquila_ in silence; I could feel tension flowing from my counterpart. I believe he thought something more was to become of our work today in a quick succession. I wouldn't have been surprised if he thought that he would have his first assassination today.

Nothing was said until we reached the captain's cabin. Connor took his seat at his desk, to which I took one of the seats across from him.

"Today accomplished little to nothing," Connor growled.

"It accomplished more than you think."

He stayed quiet, awaiting a response.

"You started the rebuilding of the Colonial Assassins, who took out one of Johnson's goons in the process."

"And now what? We wait?" He said with a bubbling anger.

I adjusted myself in my seat, bringing my legs up to sit with them crossed, "For a little bit."

Connor sighed out in frustration and shook his head.

"You must think I sound like Achilles," I finally said, in which was returned with a half-amused snort. "I'm sorry; I don't really know what else to say. And I'm not sure if this helps or not- but at least we have to wait together."

I left his cabin only a few moments later, returning to my quarters, more than happy to kick off my boots and change from my robes. I threw on a pair of leggings and a baggy T-shirt before crawling into my hammock. The sounds of the waves hitting against the sides of the ship, the creaking of the ropes above deck, it all had a calming affect on me, lulling me to sleep.

On the course for home, we came across a merchant ship being harassed by several British gunboats. Connor and Mr. Faulkner decided to help the small merchant ship, providing an escort to take down advancing gunboats. We were almost back into open waters when a British frigate came out of hiding in the East and opened fire. Connor had them sinking into the sea in under two minutes, and I was astounded. I thought it was over, but Connor turned the ship towards the East to find out where and why the British frigate had come from where it had. We found a fort, in which Mr. Faulkner was claiming it to be abandoned. But when the fort sent a line of mortars raining down upon us, it was obvious that the fort was _not_ , in fact, abandoned.

"That lobcock shouldn't be there!" Mr. Faulkner shouted, pointing at the fort in disbelief.

"Well, it _is_ there, Mr. Faulkner," Connor retorted.

"And it's too close to the Vineyard! Time and tide waits for no man. Take out her towers, captain!"

It took some maneuvering, and probably about ten years off of my life, but Connor and his crew were able to take out the three major towers of the fort. I had never wanted to go hide before during a fight, but there was something that unnerved me about having mortars slash down around us, aimed to sink the ship and drown us. I mostly blame myself for not being prepared for such an experience. But there we stood, unharmed and all accounted for, I felt an overwhelming notion that we could take on anything. It was also in that moment that I became very interested in learning everything possible about handling the _Aquila_ , even though Mr. Faulkner thought it bad luck for a lady to be onboard the ship. Connor had the crew drop anchor, allowing time for a full damage report and pretty much so we could all catch our breaths.

"That fort won't be troubling anybody no-more. Bloody English have gone too far this time," Mr. Faulkner shook his head.

"That is the problem," Connor said. "What _reason_ would the English have to threaten Martha's Vineyard? It has no strategic value and its people remain peaceful. I fear an influence of a different kind saw to this."

"Templars," Mr. Faulkner said.

"But what they intend, I do not know," Connor turned at looked at me for a long moment.

"Your orders?" Mr. Faulkner asked.

The captain sighed, still holding my gaze in thought before returning to Mr. Faulkner. "I need time to piece things together. We set a course for home."

Not long after we started on our back home, I was introduced to a kid about my age named Jeremy. He was more than eager to show me all the ins and outs of sailing. It kept me entertained, to say the least. Jeremy was impressed how quickly I caught on, and how strong I was, even when I was just a "petite little thing." At Connor's request, I stayed off of sail duty, although promising to show me while safely docked at the homestead. He also very much disapproved of me firing a cannon; that was until I teased about him having all of the fun. Before reaching the homestead, we found a little cove where Connor allowed me to have some target practice with the cannons and swivel guns. I was a little overexcited, I had to admit, but it was the most fun I had in a long time.

I came to find, through a series of Bostonian related events, that when the British government wants to fuck with Sam Adams, Sam Adams pushes right back. He called for us in December, letting us know the details of his plan. Connor and I were standing in the silversmith shop of Paul Revere, helping a small army of men prepare for their biggest protest yet. And _man_ , there was a lot of alcohol being passed around. Stephane Chapheau was also among the men, who became rather excited when Connor and I walked through the doors. It was decided stabbing the East India Company right in the heart was the perfect revenge plan. I had to agree.

"We'll need a distraction," Sam said, "something to help get the guards to look away from the docks long enough to get everyone onboard the ships safely. If they catch us early, the entire plan will fail."

"I'm a good distraction," I offered.

Sam smirked, "Yes, you are." He quickly looked with panic stricken eyes to Connor before quickly adding, "Dakota, go out first, lure any guards away and then meet at the docks."

"Absolutely," I pulled my hood up with a smile and headed out for my part of the plan.

Going through the alleyways, a few small British patrols were making their rounds. I could easily distract them by walking to loudly behind them and disappearing into the shadows, causing them to pause and turn around to find the source. I'd throw empty glass bottles I found in the streets against a building's exterior, really getting a rouse from the guards. It actually made for a relatively boring evening. After a few rounds, I walked back to the silversmith shop to make sure everyone had gotten out. When I found it vacant, I made my way to the docks and scaled a nearby building to scope out the guards in the area.

I only waited a few minutes before there was movement along the sides of the ships. The crew from the shop were quietly boarding and taking over. When the coast was clear, I moved from my vantage point and to the ship I had spotted Connor aboard. He had watched me approach the ship and helped me aboard, looking relieved to see me. A crowd started to gather around the docks, and I knew trouble would soon follow. Just as I was about to board, the sound of an approaching patrol hurried down the cobblestone streets. I hurried aboard and stood beside Connor, awaiting orders to start fighting or to start the mass destruction.

"It's Johnson's tea on these ships," Connor smirked down to me.

"Perfect," I smiled.

The soldiers were ordered to stand down- too many angry, drunken people around, one shot fired could cause a riot or a massacre. So we started the throw the tea from the two ships. The second crate I picked up happened to make the clinking sound of glass. I knelt down and busted open the crate, finding an entire shipment of wine.

"Hey, Sam," I shouted, getting his attention. I lifted two bottles of wine from the crate, "Pass 'em around."

He let out a laugh and took a few bottles from me. I opened one myself and took a swig. _Oh God,_ I sighed inwardly to myself, _It's straight from the motherland_. Connor moved next to me, looking at my little discovery. I passed the bottle to him. He took it and looked at it skeptically.

"That's the good shit," I smiled, "Imported from Italy herself."

He took a sip and screwed up his face, "It is...dry."

I laughed, taking back the bottle and drinking deeply. I looked around the scene before me, taking in this moment of history. The British guards stood by as they were mocked by the people of Boston. The crowd that had formed was shouting loudly as each crate of tea hit the harbor's water. I could _feel_ the pride pouring from these people, their biggest treason yet against the crown. Connor and I tossed crate after crate while drinking from my wine bottle and celebrating with the other men onboard. Once everything was dumped, we disembarked from the ship. Connor stopped short for a moment and tapped my arm with the back of his hand. I followed his eyes straight ahead to three men standing under a shelter, observing the chaos.

"Johnson?" I whispered.

He nodded once, eyes unwavering.

"Connor!" Called Stephane Chapheau from behind us. He walked from the ship with another crate in hand. "We saved the last one for you."

Connor took the tea from Stephane with a nod of thanks, and walked to the end of the dock, facing the onlooking William Johnson. He held out the crate and let it fall from his hands, holding his arms out as it splashed into the water. I let out a giggle, grasping Connor's arm and nodding for us to leave before arrests were made.

We returned to Davenport within a fortnight, making it to the manor just as the sun was setting. Achilles was outside admiring the view when we arrived. Connor approached his mentor with his head high.

"It is done," He announced.

"Johnson is dead?" Achilles asked, barely glancing in Connor's direction.

Connor took a moment, "No. He retreated when we destroyed the tea.

"Only to hatch some new scheme, I'm sure," The mentor grumbled. "You should have killed him."

"There was no need," Connor replied, pacing.

Achilles snorted, "Time will tell if you speak the truth."

Connor glanced up to me, then walked away from his mentor and into the manor. I followed closely behind him into the house and downstairs into the basement. During the days here at the manor, we retreated to the basement not only for training but also to vent. There had already been several moments that the two of us rushed downstairs just to let out frustrated grunts and freely roll our eyes at something. I don't think I had ever met someone with my level of sass, until now. This time, Connor immediately went to stand in front of the portraits of his targets, staring long and hard at Johnson's portrait.

"Do you agree with Achilles?" He asked after moments of silence.

I walked over and sat myself on the tabletop with a heavy sigh, "I can't change history. What you think is right, then I follow your footsteps."

"But do you agree with him?"

I stared into his eyes, "I'm uncertain. If he makes another advancement, then he needs be dealt with."

Connor nodded before returning his gaze upon the Templar portraits.


	12. Twelve- Dakota

_**Twelve- Dakota**_

 _March 1774_

The land had passed through a mild winter, and into an early spring, allowing Connor a chance to teach me how to hunt and track without being exposed to the harshest of the elements. We stayed in a cabin in Troy's Woods, to which I found out Connor had claimed as a prize for helping the locals rid of a bear and a cougar between the times of my first and second visit. He told the stories so nonchalantly, I had stared at him with my jaw dropped, almost leading my horse off the trail and into a tree.

"You snuck up on a bear, in its own cave, and killed it?"

"Yes," He said matter-of-factly, and the little smirk on his lips showed his pride.

"We better not do that this week," I eyed him.

"I have no plans for it. But you never know," he smiled with a teasing look in his eye.

"Uh-huh. _Sure_ ," I eyed him suspiciously but laughed beside myself.

We arrived at the cabin by the evening. I found it to be quite cute; there was a tall oak tree in the front yard, shading the outside firepit. The cabin had a rather spacious porch with a rack for firewood. Inside, it was one large room. The kitchen area was set against the back wall with a nice amount of counter space. Two windows were placed directly across of each other on the side walls, allowing light inside the dark room. A large wardrobe was placed against the near wall, which held the bedding for the queen sized bed that sat across from it in the middle of the room. There was a fireplace to the right directly after walking in the front door. It was a lovely little cabin, perfect for the loan hunter.

I went to work on getting the bed in order while Connor went outside to collect firewood. He returned as I was fluffing two pillows and putting them at the headboard. He started a warming fire in the fireplace while I dusted the counters and windowsills. After I was satisfied with the place, I took a seat on the floor next to Connor.

"I will sleep on the floor," he declared.

I raised my eyebrows, "You don't have to do that. I don't have a problem sharing the bed."

He looked down to me, "But Dakota-"

"No, no, you're not sleeping on the floor," I said, to which he tried to protest again. "If you lie down on this floor, so will I."

As the night grew late, I changed into my bed clothes. I sat on the bed for a little while longer as we talked- Connor was telling me stories from his childhood, most of them involving him getting into trouble while his friend Kanento:kon was the sweet-talker and got them out of trouble he caused. His stories made me laugh.

"I was bullied a lot when I was a kid," I snorted. "This one time, I was like...six years old, and one of my classmates locked me in a toy chest. My teacher didn't realize I was missing for almost _two hours_."

"You did not call out for help?"

"No. I took a nap instead. It was great."

Connor let out a laugh, one of the loudest I've ever heard from him.

We fell asleep that night with an awkward space between us. Neither of us wanted to bump into the other or disturb the others sleep. He took the side of the bed closest to the fire, in case he needed to wake and rebuild it during the night. I slept with my back to him, staring out the night's sky through the window beside the bed. I had been asleep for a few hours when the sound of howling wolves broke the peaceful night, sending me bolt straight.

"It is just the wolves," Connor mumbled, half asleep himself.

"Right. Wolves. _Just_ the wolves," I rolled my eyes and laid myself back down onto the bed.

Early in the morning, just as the sun peaked over the horizon, Connor and I were dressed and walking into the crisp winter air. He taught me how to set snare traps and how to track. He did the shooting, but I was alongside him the entire time, watching how he approached and slowly stood, pulling back his bow. His movements were slow, but his aim was fast. As soon as the bow was fully drawn, it was within a few seconds that the arrow was flying through the air and into the liver of a rabbit. As we walked towards his kill, he explained to me the importance of a clean kill, and how to achieve one by taking the time to aim. A missed shot could scare the prey, causing it to flee. A bad aim can ruin the animal's hide, making it worthless.

"This rabbit is a gift. We must return nature's kindness with our own," he said, kneeling before it.

We started back to the camp and stopped at the snares we had set earlier. One of mine successfully caught a rabbit, and I felt a mixed sense of joy and sadness. Once we returned to the cabin, Connor first demonstrated how to skin an animal, using his own kill to show the process. I felt a little uneasy at the site but tried my damnedest not to let it show through. When his rabbit was fully skinned, it was my turn.

"Oh God," I muttered, then looked up to beg with Connor, "Please, do this with me."

He smirked and moved himself to be behind me, taking my hands in his to guide me. His voice as soft as he coached me through everything. I thought I was going to throw up, but I held myself together by some miracle. Connor chuckled at me after the rabbit was skinned and cleaned; apparently, I had kept myself together but the color had drained from my face. Damn, I thought I was doing so well. But at the end of the day, I found out that I could make some killer rabbit stew.

We only stayed at the cabin for three days, leaving the afternoon of the third to return to Davenport with fresh deer meat. Our second day in the woods hadn't produced much of anything. The third day, Connor had taken to his favorite hunting blind, where he took down a twelve-point buck. He debated on stringing up the deer in the oak tree outside of the cabin, but then quickly remembered the howling wolves the first night we were in Troy's Woods. We made the decision to head for Davenport, the buck secured over my horse, while we both rode Connor's home.

As we approached the manor, I heard a gasping sound of pain ahead of us on the trail. Connor heard it too and quickly started ahead. We found a woman, dressed in a man's clothing, grasping her bleeding arm. Connor jumped down from the horse and walked to the woman to aid her.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly.

"What do you think?" She replied, trying to tie a makeshift tourniquet above the wound.

"How did this happen?"

"Poachers in the woods. I asked them to leave...this was their answer," she indicated to her arm.

"Come on, we need to get that arm looked at," he helped the woman to her feet. "Dakota, ride ahead and alert Achilles."

I nodded and kicked my heels to the horse's side, grabbing the reigns tight of the horse carrying our buck. Once I reached the manor, I ran inside and told Achilles what had happened. When we returned outside, Connor had the woman in his arms and walking up the stairs to the front door. We brought her side, sitting her down in the kitchen so we could look at her wound. Connor turned to leave.

"Connor! What are you doing?" Achilles demanded.

"Those poachers need to be stopped."

"Saw the scabs from my hunting blind, just south of here."

Connor turned and left the manor. I had half a notion to follow him and get in on the action, but I felt that I was needed more here. Achilles sent me for the items needed to clean and repair the huntress's wound, and when I returned, helped with cleaning and bandaging. We learned that the woman's name was Myriam, and she wasn't new to the whole idea of hunting. She had done so for most of her life, traveling in the frontier instead of being restricted to the awful options of an orphaned young girl that the city had to offer. Once her wound was patched up, we offered her some food and water, which she gratefully accepted. Connor returned not long after.

"Why did those men attack you?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"It's no secret this land is full with game. I spotted the trespassers en route to request permission to hunt here myself, and request that they do the same."

"The bounty of the forest is not mine to give. It is your right to hunt on this land, but I would appreciate you trading your surplus with the others."

"Very well," Myriam smiled. "I accept."

Within a few weeks time, Myriam had herself set up on the homestead, further from the rest of the homes, but closer to the woods. We introduced her to Lance, the carpenter, and the entire family of Terry and Godfrey. Connor seemed to enjoy having someone that was as keen on hunting as he was, to which they swapped stories, and she invited him to join her at anytime he found himself available.

On the morning of April 4th, Achilles and I agreed to allow Connor to sleep in for his birthday. I spent the entire day in the kitchen preparing dinner. Achilles had found his late wife's bread recipe, offering it to me if I wanted to give it a try. Connor woke late, a little confused on why no one had come to wake him.

"Well, it's your eighteenth birthday!" I giggled, "We thought you deserved a day to yourself, Ratonhnhake:ton."

He smiled lightly, "Thank you."

We had dinner around five o'clock that night, and to my own delight, the two men complimented me on a job well done. Achilles found that the bread was near perfection, almost exactly as his wife use to make it. I started to clean up the dishes after dinner, but Achilles asked for me to fetch something from his room and bring it to him. There was a slender box wrapped with a red ribbon and a larger box wrapped with a gold ribbon. I wondered what Achilles had up his sleeve. I brought the two packages out, and Achilles nodded for me to hand them to Connor. I sat next to him as he opened the first box- the slender one. Inside was a new slew of handmade arrows. The second box, the heavier of the two, contained a new set of flintlock pistols. Connor thanked us, even though I hadn't an inkling of them.

As I cleaned up from dinner, Achilles came into the kitchen to help. Connor went upstairs for a bath, allowing us to speak freely about him.

"I hope you don't mind that I told Connor that those presents were from both of us."

"Achilles, you didn't have to say they were. But thank you," I smiled.

"I know you do not have much time away from him when you are here. So I decided that it would be best to do so. It is also my way of thanking you for such a lovely meal."

"I'm glad I can do something around here," I laughed.


End file.
